


Somethings Are Better Left Unspoken

by Destiny_Enemy



Series: My Years in Hell [3]
Category: Aphmau - Freeform - Fandom, Minecraft diaries - Fandom
Genre: Blood and Violence, Deal, Denial, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, How Do I Tag, Hurt No Comfort, I'm Sorry, It's a good sign when THAT'S my first tag..., M/M, Non-Graphic Rape/Non-Con, Panic Attacks, SO, Self-Hatred, Threats of Rape/Non-Con, also it's 4am and I suck at summaries, mentions of torture, no happy ending, only pain here guys, scratch the comfort on that last one, that was mean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-05
Updated: 2019-09-05
Packaged: 2020-10-10 11:00:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,633
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20526905
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Destiny_Enemy/pseuds/Destiny_Enemy
Summary: Laurance had undergone so many things, so much torture, mentally, physically, spiritually, he had grown numb to it. But there was one person, the only person who could get a reaction out of him, and that was about to be pushed to the limits.Otherwise known as I suck at summaries and Gene is a fucking dick and actually follows through with what he was planning to do to his Lord's daughter, but using Laurance! Yaaaaaay.....





	Somethings Are Better Left Unspoken

**Author's Note:**

> So, I apologize in advance? I think? I mean, I'm proud of this but I'm still a horrible person sooo. This idea was not all mine however! I must give some of the praise to my best friend, who is as equally fucked up as I am. Just, lemmie put it this way, we have had this idea in our heads for YEARS, back in season two we made this up, although back then it was about Vincent, but as time passed we realized "Oh hey, Gene was in charge of torturing Laurance right? He's a fucked up SOB...what if..." so yea. Enough of my ramblings, enjoy!

I hear footsteps echo in the small room I find myself in, my body turning towards the sound, the movement causing the chains holding me up to rattle loudly, an almost painful sound in the once quiet chamber. The noise grows closer, coming to a stop right in front of me, crimson-stained boots filling my vision. I don’t bother raising my head, there is only one person who would visit me at this hour, here for no reason other than to mock me, reminding me how weak I am, how I will inevitably fail, falling into the dark abyss I find myself on the edge of, part of me fighting valiantly while struggling to hold on, the other part wishing to end this and just let go. I can’t be completely sure which side will win, but with each passing day, I find myself caring less about the outcome. 

“Laurance,” The voice sings, tone light and taunting, as though it can read my thoughts, see the inner struggle, and is absolutely _ giddy _ about it. “I know you’re awake.” It states, voice losing some of the previous enthusiasm as it makes clear the fact that it wants an answer. I know the longer I wait, the worse the outcome will be, but I can’t bring myself to care. So many things have happened to me, I have so many scars that they cover more than half my body, ranging from cuts, to burns, to whip marks. There is nothing I haven’t felt yet, aside from death, and I’m fairly certain I will experience that before I leave this place, _ if _ I leave that is.

My head is suddenly snapped to the side, a red handprint quickly appearing on my cheek from the slap. I turn my head towards the source and am met with deep cyan eyes glaring into mine, a threat clear in them, and I find my body growing tense and my breath increasing rapidly at the sight. They suddenly soften, a fraudulent smile taking the place of a previous sneer. “Ah, that’s better.” He states, tone surprisingly pleasant, and I’m not completely sure if it’s from my impelled cooperation or something I’ve yet to experience, and the thought terrifies me to no end. 

His hands raise slowly, making my worn muscles grow taut, the action making me aware of every wound on my body, causing me to let out a hiss of discomfort, and him to chuckle at my reaction before speaking. “Relax Laurance, you’ve been through enough today, hmm?” He keeps his eyes trained on his task, which appears to be undoing the cuffs holding my wrists in place, but I can hear the amusement in his voice, causing me to turn my head away in shame, frustrated that I can’t control my own body when he’s around, letting it act on instinct and self-preservation, making it clear just how much he panics me.

I hear a slight clicking sound, and a quiet “Ah, there we go.” from Gene is all the warning I get before my legs collapse under me, the other male gripping me and slowly lowering my body to the ground. My arms hang limply at my sides, the awkward position they were held in making them grow completely numb, and I’m almost grateful for it, as I catch a glimpse of my wrists which have been rubbed raw and bloody, the skin around them torn and bruised. My legs are of no use at the moment either, hours of standing on the tips of my toes making them burn with exertion and lead to them collapsing, putting me in the position I find myself in at the moment. 

I’m suddenly very aware of the fact that Gene is holding me close, my body leaned against his as he turns my hands in his own gently. I slowly raise my head, the action making him let out a small questioning hum, his hands halting their movements and tightening just slightly, a warning should I try and break free of their grasp. I lift my head, my eyes meeting his, bewilderment written across his face as I struggle to put my question into words, the only intelligible sound leaving my throat being a quiet “Why?” that has his eyebrows raising slightly in surprise before a smirk appears on his face, his features growing softer before answering me. “Well, I have to make sure your wounds don’t get infected correct?” He states, his tone teasingly chiding, as though he was speaking to a small child, and it made anxiety pool in my stomach as I silently reprimanded myself for asking such an obvious question. “Besides,” Before I know it, Gene’s voice is entering my ears again, causing me to subconsciously turn my attention back towards him. “With those chains on all the time, I hardly believe here,” He gently presses his thumb into the marks on my wrist, making me let out another hiss of pain at the action. “Has gotten the proper treatment.” He says skeptically, rubbing small circles into the aggravated skin, bringing both a sting and soothe to the area. 

I say nothing, and he returns to his task, a silence falling over the room. I stare at the ground blankly, my thoughts swimming, alarm at the edge of my mind, the knowledge that if Gene were to suddenly decide that he wanted to hear me scream again, he could. I was slowly regaining feeling in my arms and legs, the movement of Gene’s hands on my wrists making the process faster, and making me very aware of the dull throb that wracked through my arms every time he moved my wrists, but I wasn’t nearly desperate enough to try and fight him in this state. While it’s true he didn’t have a guard accompanying him, he could still best me in combat, especially due to the fact I had no weapon, challenging him would be a death wish. 

Moments pass in complete silence, the air in the room tense, but not unbearable. As my eyes glance around the room, they suddenly fall on the door, which I had failed to notice previously, but it was ajar, a stray piece of rubble keeping it from closing properly. I feel my heart leap into my throat, and while I know it would be a terrible idea, I can’t help but imagine what would happen should I make a run for it. It would be certain death, that’s what, what in Irene’s name am I thinking? I had just surmised the fact that Gene could very well dominate me in a fight, not to mention, what would I even do when I got out there? Running wouldn’t get me far, and I doubt even with all the adrenaline that would be rushing through my veins that I could fight with my injuries, sneaking would be my only option. Before I knew it, I had a plan formulated, all I needed to do was set it into motion.

I take a steadying breath, it’s now or never, this might be my only chance, but if I fail, I shudder at the thought. “Gene,” I find myself speaking rather suddenly before I can attempt to talk myself out of it, shattering the silence that had fallen over us, effectively breaking Gene from his rather concentrated state, a soft hum of acknowledgment falling from his lips. “I need to tell you something.” I state solemnly, my eyes rising to meet his, his features quite taken-aback at my actions, he knows just as well as I that I rarely look him in the eye if it can be helped, and his surprise was what I had been aiming for, he hadn’t been expecting me to act in this manner, he was caught off guard, and I pray to Irene that the shock outweighs his judgment. His movements still as he meets my gaze, an equally serious look on his face as he responds. “That is?”

I feel my throat constricting as I prepare to put the next part of my plan into action. I shyly glance away from him, as though his stare alone is enough to make me doubt myself and become flustered. Gene firmly believes that everyone is below him, aside from the Shadow Lord that is, and I plan to use that to my advantage. “I, can,” I tense my shoulders as I stutter, hoping that it seems like I’m so intimidated I can no longer find my words, and judging from the amused look I gain in response, I believe it’s working. I inhale deeply as if I’m composing myself before I continue. “Can you come closer?” My voice grows quiet and bashful as I speak, my gaze falling to the floor and my shoulders tensing as I let myself appear timid, praying that the male in front of me buys the disguise. I hear a chuckle come from said male, and glance upwards to see him shaking his head before he moves closer, an almost fond look covering his features that has my insides churning uncomfortably, a normally warm feeling being replaced by heart-sinking dread. 

“What is it?” His voice is smooth, words falling from his lips easily as his eyes soften, the warm look on his face only growing. I take another steadying breath as I prepare to reveal my true intentions. I lean my head back, letting my eyes drift to the ceiling as I briefly contemplate backing out, but at this point, I’m in too deep. If I were to back out now, Gene would grow irritated that I had wasted his time and it would end the same as if I had followed through. I hear a rather entertained “Well?” from Gene right before my head collides with his, a satisfying crunch sounds making it apparent I’ve caught his nose in the collision. In his dazed state, his hands let go of mine and fly up to the sight of the impact, cupping his now bleeding nose with them. I quickly raise to my feet, adrenaline flooding through my veins making my head sway from the sudden movement, but I push forward even as spots fill my vision. If I fail here it’s all over, Gene would be back on his feet with a vengeance in no time, and I doubt I would survive the encounter.

Everything feels like it’s moving in slow motion, and I can’t help the smirk of triumph that covers my face as my fingers brush against the handle of the door, it has been weeks since I’ve left this room, and now I just may have a chance. My blood runs cold as I feel a hand grip my shoulder, millions of emotions rushing through me in seconds, despair, anger, realization, _ terror _. I’m suddenly slammed into the wall, a body pushing against mine as the air escapes my lungs, leaving me gasping and choking. I open my eyes, the sight before me making my hair stand on end and dread fill my stomach. Blood runs down his face in thick streams, the crimson liquid catching on his lips before dripping to the ground, his eyes echoing the color flawlessly as his mouth tugs into a sneer. Strong hands pin my shoulders to the wall, rendering me immobile as if my petrified state wasn’t enough to keep my body still.

“I come here, out of the **_goodness of my heart,_**” Gene’s voice is low, a warning that I will not leave this confrontation unscathed, but his words spark anger in me and had I not tested his patience before, I would be laughing at his self-righteous comment. “To **_help you,_**” I have to bite my tongue so I don’t utter a remark about not requiring his help had it not been for his very actions. “For no reason other than I **_pity you,_**” His nails dig into my shoulders, stabbing into flesh and, judging from the sudden warmth dripping down my back, drawing blood. His expression can be described by nothing other than _fury_, his eyes a deep red that hold the promise of pain once he finishes his monologue, and I find my fear ebbing away, wishing he would get on with it instead of pointlessly drawing it out. “And **_what do you do?_**” He asks although I know he doesn’t want an answer. His voice raises in anger, his eyes appearing to flicker with each word as his fingers dig deeper, pulling a hiss of pain from my lips. “**_Attempt to run._**” His voice grows dangerously calm, his eyes a steady crimson, returning some of the sickening anticipation to my stomach.

“**Ya know, you have been a thorn in my side from the ** ** _day you got here._ ** ” His demeanor relaxes, nails gently removing themselves from the wounds in my back, causing my body to go rigid despite the tender action, apprehension filling my veins as he speaks. “ **Part of me wishes I wasn’t in charge of torturing you,**” He says easily, tone carefree and sickeningly casual, the offhanded comment hanging in the air, waiting to be finished, causing my muscles to stiffen in suspense. His hands switch positions in a split-second, my mind only registering that they have moved due to a sudden pressure across my chest, a strong forearm holding me in place while the other hand makes its way up my body before gripping my chin tightly, forcing me to meet the crimson eyes that have grown increasingly close to my face. I feel my heart stutter in my chest, my breath ceasing as I stare into blood-red eyes that are inches from my own sky blue ones, I see a rather pleased look appear in them although the face they belong to remains impassive.

“**And the other part can’t ** ** _wait to break you_ ** **.** ” He says, voice nothing more than a low growl, inscrutable expression giving way to rage once again, but there is something else sparking in those eyes that has my nerves on edge, my body cramping from how hard my muscles are tensed, but I’m unable to relax them even if I wished. “ **I grow tired of your ever-persistent attitude.** ” The look in his eyes grows, making my stomach twist violently. He suddenly leans forward, my body unconsciously pressing into the wall behind me in an attempt to increase the distance. I see him smirk at my actions, a dark chuckle leaving his throat as his breath ghosts across my ear, masking his face from view, my heart hammering against my chest as though it’s attempting to escape. “ ** _Someone should teach you a lesson._ **” His tone turns dark and seductive, intent clear as he lightly presses his thumb into my bottom lip, my blood turning to ice as I process the gravity of my situation, limbs shaking and tears pricking at the corners of my eyes as my mind races to come up with a solution. 

I break out of my stupor, thrashing my body violently in an attempt to dislodge myself from the other male’s grasp. I catch him off guard momentarily, catching his cheek with my nails, leaving a shallow gash that has him hissing and his eyes flashing with rage. I feel a hand grip my neck, and before I can process what is happening the world around me blurs and I hear a sickening crack as the room starts spinning, my stomach lurching as I feel warmth pool beneath my head.

I can hear the clanking of armor and the shuffling of clothes as they’re removed, my eyes unfocused, only allowing me to make out shapes around me. My eyelids droop as a sudden wave of vertigo and exhaustion hits me, my body slowly succumbing to the fatigue, my mind slipping away as I start to doze off. My head is suddenly snapped to the side, my eyes flying open as pain racks through my system, causing me to let out a gasp as agony seizes me. A strong hand grips my chin, making me face the figure leaning over me, anger radiating from the dark crimson eyes he has. “Don’t think I’m letting you off that easy Laurance,” He states, the confusion in my mind being outweighed as fear grips my heart abruptly. His face contorts in glee as my senses return to me, dimmed but still strong. “**I going to make sure you remember this.**” His hand grips my wrists, pinning them to the floor above my head as the other trails down my abdomen, before setting itself on my hip in a bruising hold, my mind struggles to process what is happening before pain tears through my system.

I can’t even scream, the searing pain only allowing me to let out a choked gasp, my vision swimming and my stomach lurching violently, my eyes wide with agony and shock, my mind refusing to believe what is happening. A sharp movement has my eyes screwing shut, the tears that were pricking the corners of them rolling down my cheeks in thick streams, pulling a chuckle from the body above mine. My hands twitch in his strong grasp, curling my fingers into my palm, knuckles turning white from the force, leaving deep enough crescents that blood slowly wells in the cuts, dripping down the sides of my hands, mirroring the tears on my cheeks.

“What’s wrong Laurance?” His breath ghosts across my face, the new angle only adding to my torment. His words are breathy and sickly sweet, making my stomach churn and my gasps to grow hiccup-like, coming out choked and watery. I feel like I can’t breathe, my head is spinning, the injury I sustained earlier only adding to the agony filling the rest of my body. “I thought you liked being used like this.” His words tear through my heart, a new type of pain accompanying the previous, a fresh wave of tears rolling down my cheeks. 

Breathy gasps and deep groans fill my ears, making my insides churn with anger and despair, both at myself, the figure above me, and Irene herself. I had gone through so much already, was it not enough? Or was she not done toying with me yet? What else must I endure before I am saved from this hell? My heart feels heavy, and part of me wishes to slam my head into the stone under me, but I no longer have the strength to lift it.

The hands holding my arms and hips down grow tighter, and the movements grow less coordinated, becoming frantic and careless and I can feel something tear, spots filling my vision as my eyes shoot open from the force before slowly drooping, exhaustion suddenly replacing the adrenaline in my veins. Nails dig into my skin, leaving welts as the body above me goes rigid, and I feel warmth filling my body before everything goes dark, my mind succumbing to the pain. 

I slowly open my eyes, my body filled with a dull ache that I can’t quite place, it feels like it resonates from everywhere at once, but I can’t pinpoint the source of such pain. I lift myself up on shaking arms, the world around me spinning, making my body sway as I attempt to counter the feeling, sitting upright as I place my head in my hands, the throb returning full force, my stomach heaving slightly due to the strain. I take in my surroundings rather dully, forcing my mind to function once again. I am surprised to find that I am sitting on a mat on the floor, but while my body has been placed on a more comforting surface, my wrists are still bound with shackles, although they merely extend from the wall giving me some room for movement. My body feels oddly clean, the familiar feeling of dried blood sticking to my skin is gone, and while a part of me feels grateful for the fact, I can’t help the feeling of dread that washes over me at this revelation, my captor has stated before that he finds no reason to make me look presentable, seeing as I am merely going to become bloody once again, so the fact that I feel and look immaculate has my stomach tying into knots as I try to recall the events that took place before I woke.

“Oh, you’re awake.” A low voice calls out, breaking me from my stupor, my head rising carefully to meet the other being. “I honestly wasn’t quite sure you would wake up.” He says casually, my mind working overdrive to put a name to the face. Cyan eyes meet my own sky blue ones and in a sickening moment of revelation I slam my back against the wall, ignoring the throb it sends through my system as memories flood into my mind, my chest growing tight as I feel the room spinning, air not quite reaching my lungs as it should. I feel myself speaking, although I did not give my body permission to do so. “Get the **fuck** away from me!” I state hysterically, my voice raised in pitch due to the gut-wrenching terror that grips my heart, wishing this was nothing more than a nightmare, but I know I won’t be waking up anytime soon.

An absolutely delighted laugh leaves the other male’s lips as he acknowledges my heightened state before stepping closer, my body pressing against the wall behind me with enough force that I feel an uncomfortable strain on my bones, as though they’re creaking under the pressure. He regards me with amusement once again as he speaks, tone light and giddy. “Relax Laurance, I wouldn’t dream of doing that again so soon.” I recognize the carefully crafted threat in those words, my body shuddering at the thought, a new wave of nausea hitting me. “You would most likely die.” His tone is casual and he shrugs his shoulders apathetically, as though the words he speaks are nothing more than a fact, something to be stated plainly, as though they don’t send a shock through my system when he utters them. His eyes turn dark as an unsettling smirk makes its way onto his lips, filling my body with dread once more. “**Considering I ripped your insides apart.**” 

His words have my breath stilling, the world around me seems to stop as my chest aches, the pain making me want to double over, but I can’t regain control of my body to do so. I feel tears prick the corners of my eyes, and I’m able to fight just enough that I can turn my head away, letting my eyes fall shut as I attempt to drown out his words with the ringing in my ears. I feel a hand rest gently on my cheek, my eyes shoot open at the contact and my head whips forward violently as my body attempts to merge with the wall behind me. “_ Don’t touch me! _” I feel rather than hear myself scream out, voice cracking and frantic as gut-wrenching terror grips me. The hand’s grasp grows tighter, effectively keeping my head in place no matter my struggle, and I feel my heart stop in my chest as my wandering eyes meet very close cyan ones. I can do nothing but prepare for the worst as his face leans ever closer, my mind going blank as it refuses to process the situation, opting to shut down in an attempt to keep my sanity.

The grip on my face grows tighter, bordering on painful, and it snaps me out of my momentary stupor, returning me to the Irene forsaken scenario before me. Gene looks down at me, seemingly content with the distance between us as he stills his descent. “I want you to remember this Laurance.” He says lowly, his words an echo of a memory, making my mind go foggy as recent events flash behind my eyes once more. His hold tightens again briefly before returning to its neutral state once more, as though he’s making sure he has my attention before speaking. “I can do **whatever** I want to you, ** _whenever_ ** I want.” He states blankly, and though my mind is barely functioning, I can hear the truth in those words, and my heart sinks painfully as they are finally said. 

His hand falls away quickly, my head tilting forward as the support suddenly leaves, making me hold it upright once again. He leans back, standing up as a smirk grazes his features before he speaks. “Keep that in mind, and you should do just fine.” With his parting words, he turns around and exits the room, leaving me to my thoughts once more.

I find myself staring at the door far longer than necessary, my mind refusing to believe he’s actually gone, waiting for his face to appear in front of mine the moment I let down my guard. I slowly feel my muscles going lax, unable to keep the strength to hold taut. I let my head thump dully on the wall behind me, staring at the ceiling in an attempt to gather my thoughts. I feel my eyes grow misty, my vision blurring and my throat constricting painfully as I take in heaving breaths, air refusing to fill my lungs as my head starts to swim, my sanity taking blow after blow to its already fragile state. Warm liquid runs down my cheeks as I press my hands over my mouth, stifling the sobs wracking my body and effectively cutting off my airflow, causing me to choke on what little oxygen I have. I can almost feel the phantoms of hands running down my body, making me shiver as another wave runs through me, shaking my head as though I can disperse the thoughts from my mind.

Minutes pass, maybe hours, before my body slowly calms itself, leaving an unsettling numbness in its wake. I lower my hands, my face wet from tears that have long since stopped falling, as I let my head fall back once more. I can’t bring myself to move, even though my neck is bent at a rather uncomfortable angle and my face itches from the salt of teardrops, my body lies limply, my arms useless at my sides and knees drawn up towards my chest to shield me from the world. 

It feels like a lifetime before thoughts fill my head once more and with it comes the startling realization that I can never acknowledge these events, least I give in and break, leaving sanity in the dust. I can feel my stability waning just with these thoughts, and should I admit it was more then a horrible nightmare my mind would surely shatter, leaving me nothing more than a husk, cold and hollow. No, this was merely another form of torture, no different from the rest, just another way of providing me with agony, and although my mind desperately clings to this outlook, there is a voice in the back of my head nagging at me, telling me I can’t hide the truth from myself forever. I’ve made it this far, I can bear this as well, I have to. Letting go isn’t a luxury I have.

  
I feel my breath slow, unaware until this point that it had once again grown rapid due to my thoughts. A calm once again settles over me, my mind going clear for the first time in what feels like years as I commit to this **fabrication** perspective, the voice in my head quieting as I refuse to listen, and I feel relief wash over me, my eyelids growing heavy as my body is lulled into a state of peace, and I slowly succumb to the darkness.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not going to apologize but I'm sorry. Both to you and Laurance. But I still love this idea so screw him, even though I want the best for him and he is my boi. Conflicting feelings here. As always, kudos and comments are always appreciated, please, tell me what you think, if I'm the only one that has thought of this. Have an awesome day/night guys!


End file.
